


"The Sun and the Star"

by Regnard



Series: Eivor x Basim little sketches [3]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28715334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regnard/pseuds/Regnard
Summary: The feasting lasted for some time, and all the weak spirited were laying all over the longhouse: some on the floor, some on the benches along the tables. A small part of them were those, who could still stand on their feet. When they got tired of drinking, fighting, or a combination of both, the Vikings thought of what to do next. Sigurd, as being the most sober, told everyone that they could play one of their most favorite games: speak true or drink.
Relationships: Eivor/Basim Ibn Ishaq
Series: Eivor x Basim little sketches [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2125758
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	"The Sun and the Star"

This evening in Ravensthorpe was different from the previous gloomy evenings with rain that just would not stop. It has been pouring from the sky since morning. At last, by sunset the gods showed some mercy and gave the villagers some truly divine gifts: firstly, the gray heavy clouds, which were shielding the sky from the fertile sun, finally disappeared. Secondly, Eivor and his fearless crew returned safely from another successful raid and brought a few heavy chests, which would replenish the coffers of their dear jarl. The most pleasant event was that today Sigurd was in a good mood, which, in itself was a rare occasion.

Another conquest of the Raven clan needed to be celebrated. Sigurd tried to resist it, but Eivor’s almost pleading look softened his heart, and the jarl eventually approved of this event. The Wolf-Kissed took his brother’s word that he will bestow the Raven Clan with his precious presence, and quickly began the preparations.

***

The feasting lasted for some time, and all the weak spirited were laying all over the longhouse: some on the floor, some on the benches along the tables. A small part of them were those, who could still stand on their feet. They sought entertainment. When they got tired of drinking, fighting, or a combination of both, the Vikings thought of what to do next. Sigurd, as being the most sober, told everyone that they could play one of their most favorite games: speak true or drink. It was a kind of game, where you needed to answer the foulest questions, that would come to mind of the one who is asking. The Norsemen liked this game because they were openminded, and usually had nothing to hide.

Everyone supported Sigurd’s idea as one and they started to decide among themselves who will play. The Jarl and his beloved brother, who were the instigators, certainly agreed to participate. Randvi also agreed. The woman looked outrageously sober even after many horns of mead that she drank earlier. Some of Eivor’s crew also expressed their desire to play.

“You should call someone, who never took part in our game”, recommended one of the sailors. “It’ll be more fun”.

“Well, if you’ll find me a few more sober fellas who will be able to understand human speech, I’ll be forever grateful”, Eivor replied humorously. “But I doubt you’ll find someone, my friend”, he added with a drunk smile. Himself, beginning to see the shape of the room blurring before his eyes.

"Why won’t you call these handsome tanned friends of yours then?" one of the female warriors suggested, that sat nearby. Other women supported her proposal with excitement. "I'm sure they understand us well enough to play our game."

The red head looked over his shoulder and his unsteady gaze began to wander around the hall in search of the “tanned friends”. He spotted the assassins in the far corner of the room. They chatted vigorously about something only they knew and from first sight they looked annoyingly sobber. For one short moment Eivor imagined how funny it would be to get these two drunk. A wide drunken and mischievous smile stretched his lips.

Then, with a groan, the man stood up and told his brother:

"I'll go bring them. Will you accompany me?"

Sigurd gave him an appraising glance and uttered, shaking his head:

"No, I'll wait here. I deeply believe in your power of persuasion and, as your jarl, I order you to bring our allies alive and unscathed," Sigurd said with a chuckle. The mead clearly began to speak through him, since the gloomy shroud around him fainted a little.

"You have my word, my lord", Eivor humorlessly answered and bowed to his brother.

Then under everyone’s laughter he moved towards the two dark-haired men.

The Hidden Ones noticed his approach from afar: his loud and cheerful manner of acting couldn’t be confused with someone else’s. Before reaching his final destination, the noisy Viking managed to give a word or two mostly everyone in his path and his laughter filled the hall like a warm bright light.

When the Wolf-Kissed stopped by their table, the assassins quit their conversation and began to stare questionably into the troublemaker’s direction.

"Fellas," Eivor finally said, leaning his hands on the table, "Having fun here, I see?"

Hytham gave the man a worrying look (he was probably worried, if the man was going to collapse right there and now), and then looked at his mentor. His brows furrowed.

"Definitely, but not as much fun, as you", Basim said with a low chuckle and nodded toward the people who occupied most of the corners with their drunk bodies.

"Why won’t you two join us then? We are going to play a game, and we need people”, Eivor continued, skipping the obvious sarcasm in the Arab’s voice. "The game is always more fun with new people."

"And what are the rules?” the senior assassin asked and continued just as the Viking opened his mouth to answer: “Let me guess: there will be mead and violence?" Basim said and raised his eyebrow. This time the Viking gave him a sharp smile.

"No, ladies, no violence”, the red-haired warrior said with a grin. “But the mead is definitely present. There is no need in it until you don’t answer”.

“Ah, so you also plunged yourself into the art of riddles, Eivor Wolf-Kissed?” Basim teased him.

“No riddles. Just questions and you answer “yes” or “no”. If you refuse, you drink”, the Viking shook his head in approval.

Hytham frowned slightly: it seems he was starting to guess what kind of questions might pop into the drunken Vikings’ head. The young man opened his mouth to say his firm “no”, but Eivor spoke first with a cheeky provocative grin:

"I've never seen that side of you before, Hytham," the Viking repeating a phrase that the assassin told him once long ago. "You are afraid, my friend?"

The Hidden One’s mouth remained half-open. He took a few short breaths, trying to process what was going on, and then frowned further. He began to believe that Eivor chose him as his "victim" and was trying to convince him to play the game. In every dirty way he could.

"I'm not afraid, I just have enough wisdom not to participate in such games," the young man said sternly. "Why give you an extra reason to gossip?"

At this statement, the Viking smiled slyly and, before turning to Basim, said almost innocently:

"No need in high speeches, my friend. You should’ve said that you are a scary cat, but I understand. Not everyone can face their inner demons, and less can show them to everybody”, Eivor said with poetry. The next words he addressed to the second assassin: “And you? You are as touchy as little Hytham?”

Basim, who remained silent all this time, enjoying this humorous scene, chuckled quietly. He perfectly understood that after the failure with his apprentice, Eivor would begin to urge him to play.

“What is it you want to hear from me during the game, that you dare not ask now?” in his turn assassin asked.

“You never give a straightforward answer”, Eivor parried, “just like Hytham. Probably this feature is natural for everyone from your brotherhood”, the man adds and pushed himself off the table. “Well, I tried to convince you, but now it seems that I should return to my brother and tell him, that you are ashamed of our company”, finally the red head told them and started to move in the direction of his friends.

After a few seconds, the man heard a snort from Basim and a heavy sigh from Hytham. Then both assassins stood up and joined Eivor.

“Eivor the Silver-Tongue”, Hytham told him a second later and made an annoyed noise.

***

When everybody sat down in a circle and Sigurd gave two wooden dice, one red and black, to every participant, the game began. He prepared a bowl with paper scraps, on which the questions were written. Then he sunk his left hand in the bowl and took out one piece of paper. After seeing the question, he smirked slightly and rose his head.

“Remember, the red dice is “yes”, the black one is “no””, he told everyone warily, and then continued: “And the first question is: did you ever get drunk to shit?”

“This one is easy”, Eivor chuckled and put a red die on the ground in front of him.

All of Norsemen did the same and then looked at the Arabic men with great interest.

Basim, feeling that everyone’s attention turned to him and his apprentice, smirked and placed a red die on the ground. Satisfied chuckles swept through the crowd.

“Wish I could see that”, someone said out loud and made everyone laugh. “You guys look though, never taking a drop of mead into your mouth”.

“Things happened”, senior assassin answered cloudily.

Then everyone’s attention switched to Hytham. The Young man still didn’t choose which dice to place. His thin fingers wanted to reach for the black one, but his mentor beat him with a comment:

“Speak true as the rules require”.

Hytham gave him a quick glance and sighed heavily. He seemed to already regret participating in this game.

After a second thought he took the red die and placed it on the ground.

“Never thought you are a drinker, little Hytham” Eivor told the young man and got back an embarrassed look.

“I’m not. It happened just once”, the Young Eagle answered apologetically and then looked back at Basim. “Mentor, how long will you remind me of that accident? I already took responsibility”.

“Don’t feel guilt of what you cannot change, learn from it”, answered assassin thoughtfully.

“Well spoken, my friend”, Sigurd interrupted him, threw the previous piece of paper away, and took another one out. His eyes lowered for a moment, and then with a grin he spoke: “I’ve slept with a woman”.

“Is this a question or a statement?” Eivor chuckled lightly.

“A statement”, answered one of the sailors. His comment cheered everyone up. “And we even know this woman’s name”.

“I’m not the only one who is playing. Give me your answers, fellas”, Sigurd demanded impatiently with a faint shade on his face. He definitely didn’t want to discuss his private life with everybody because of its obvious absence.

Eivor chose the red die and looked at Basim’s hands. Anyways, he wasn’t surprised, when he saw that the assassin took the same one. Obviously, this particular assassin wasn’t the one who would stay untouched for his entire life. What really made everyone exited is the fact that Hytham choose the red one too.

“So, you’re not a virgin?” suddenly a woman’s voice sounded that made everyone choke with laughter. The crowd’s reaction made Hytham blush a lot. “And you kept us wondering all this time, my dear?”

“Why would I be?” the young man asked offendedly. His pride was wounded from the fact, that they were making fun of him. “There are plenty of women in Constantinople”, he added with cold tone.

“Oh, there is no doubt in it”, the female warrior, who spoke before, answered him, wiping her tears of laughter. “It’s just you. Always in your bureau. Doing your business. You should take a walk more often, maybe even talk to women in our settlement. Remember, you’re making a reputation for yourself”.

Hytham narrowed his eyes at this statement but stayed silent, nevertheless. He knew well enough, that often the best strategy to win a debate is to say nothing.

The next question continued this spicy topic. A mischievous smile stretched out on Sigurd’s lips before he said: “I kissed a man”.

“That definitely sounds like a statement, the way it was spoken”, Eivor teased him immediately. The waves of laughter, that rolled over him from time to time, made his breath shaky.

This question was tricky only for the men playing the game. Women laid their red tokens on the ground and with interest began to view those, who still chose between truth and a horn of strong mead, that Randvi took from the Raven clan’s last raid spoil. Someone already put their black tokens on the ground and waited for the remaining. There were Sigurd, Eivor, Basim and Hytham, who still didn’t place their dice.

The first, who reviled the truth was Sigurd. He slowly took a red token and laid it where everyone could see it. Some of the players snorted immediately, but the jarl only shrugged. There was no shame in it. The Raven Clan’s leader was more careless when he was younger, allowing himself to do almost everything he wanted. This bitter thought made him frown a little. Reminding himself who he was and who he became not long ago.

Still, nobody paid attention on his sudden change of mood. Everyone was occupied with what the others say. Eivor took his red dice and began to roll it between his fingers with a provocative grin. He shot a quick glance on the area in front of Hytham and watching him choosing the black token, asked him with interest:

“Never? Not even once?”

“This is not for me”, the Young Eagle answered him, shaking his head slightly.

“So, you’ve never romanced anyone from your brotherhood?” the Wolf-Kissed continued his interrogation.

“Romance relationships are forbidden. It is written in our codex”, Basim answered him instead of his student.

“Still, you two laid with women, as we all know now”, the read-head warrior made a sarcastic remark.

“Relationships are forbidden inside the brotherhood, not outside of it”, with a smirk explained senior assassin.

“What a sly fox you are”, said Eivor, narrowing his eyes. Then with a provocative lopsided smile he asked: “So what is your answer then?”

“This is my answer to you, Wolf-Kissed”, Basim told him, took a horn, made a deep sip.

The strong drink made his throat burn, but he swallowed it anyways. He swept away the remaining of the liquid from his lips with a hand and then he caught Eivor’s piercing gaze. The read-head observed the assassins every move with great interest deep inside his incredible azure eyes, slightly titling his head on one side. The Arab answered with his own gaze. His amber eyes were searching for something in the Viking’s face, something he could not quite understand. A recognition, probably. A god inside him, a persistent voice in his head, a silhouette in the shadows, was always alerted, always observing.

Basim almost felt that he managed to grab this thin thread his invisible friend was seeking, as he heard voices from the side.

“You men need some private space, I see”, one of the warriors said, and others supported her with a whistle.

The assassin slightly shrugged and looked away from Eivor’s face. The Viking, in his turn, took a quick breath and barely kept the disappointed sound in his chest. He caught the questioning look from his brother, some interested gazes from other players and his desire to keep playing vanished in one moment. All he could think about is the look of the dark assassin’s eyes. Heavy, straight, full of power. These eyes looked through his soul right into the core of it. What was this gaze seeking? Did he found what he was looking for?

Eivor made an attempt to get up as he heard Basim’s apologizing voice:

“I think I should go, my friends. I’m afraid, I got tired and need some rest”.

The man straightened up, and with a slight pat on the younger assassin’s shoulder told him in a father-like tone:

“Don’t drink to much. This mead is too strong for you”.

Hytham nodded silently.

Eivor followed his movements with his gaze and rose his horn of mead. He was already drunk, but he needed something to distract himself with. After some time, feeling the start of a headache, he excused himself and came out of the longhouse. The fresh cold wind brushed Eivor’s face, and he sighed slightly, feeling momentary relief. He knew he shouldn’t drink that much, but this was just a habit. With another heavy sigh man directed his way to the little waterfall located in the back of the settlement. He was hoping that the cold water will clear his mind and take away his headache for just a little bit.

***

The forest was quiet and peaceful at night. Eivor was sitting by the water, touching its cold and calm surface with the tips of his fingers. The mirror-like water reflected dark sky and the countless stars on it. The red head took his tunic off, and after throwing it nearby, lied on the wet stones. The cold made him shiver, but it also distracted him from the pain in his head. The man put his hand under his head and, squinted his eyes, began to follow the movements of the clouds on the sky. The measured hum of the waterfall beside him quickly made him fall asleep.

He only opened his eyes when he heard quiet steps not far from him. The Viking turned his head in the direction of the noise and spotted a seated figure at the water's edge. The man lifted himself on his elbows and narrowed his eyes, trying to see something in the poor moon light. The recognition came suddenly and Eivor said, getting himself up in a sitting position:

“Basim? Is that you?”

The figure sighed and turned to where the red-haired warrior sat.

“I hoped, I would not disturb you, Wolf-Kissed. I apologize for interrupting your sleep”, the assassin answered and straightened himself up. His hands held a sparkling silver flask, wet from water. “Although, I thought of bringing you at least a warm coat. Sleeping like that will bring you no good”, added the dark-haired man in a mentoring manner.

“Mothering me, as always”, the Viking smiled at him with a snort, standing up.

His limbs were numb from the cool of the wind, and he rushed to wear his tunic. He regretted because of not taking his fur cape with him. The fabric of the cloth was cold, rough and slightly wet from the waterfall’s splashes, and Eivor felt an immediate need of warmth. He wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing his arms with his palms only to warm himself a little. Basim watched him with an intent stare and then sighed heavily. He made a few steps towards the Viking and nodded in the direction of the wood.

“Come. I’ve made a camp nearby, there is a bonfire, you’ll warm yourself up”.

And without waiting for any complaints, he moved in the shown direction.

Eivor stayed frozen for a moment, thinking whether he should go back to the longhouse, but then his curiosity won, and he followed in Basim’s steps.

The Arab was already waiting for him by the bonfire, stretching his hands towards the warmth. He focused his gaze on the newcomer, not surprised that Eivor followed him, then tilted his head to the side, inviting warrior to seat beside him on the log. The red head immediately shortened the distance between them and after placing himself in front of the fire, made a satisfied sigh of relief.

They sat together in silence, listening to the crackle of the wood. This scene reminded Eivor of that night in Cent, long time ago, when his brother wasn’t safe yet. He started the conversation first back then, and he started it now as well:

“You’re spending the night here, in the woods?” the man asked, looking over his shoulder at the tent not far from their spot. “Why not in the bureau?”

Basim shuddered, as if distracted from his own mind, and shrugged.

“I often like to be outside. It’s quiet here, peaceful”, the assassin told him in his usual thoughtful manner. “In such moments I like to think. It calms my mind”, the man’s voice almost vanished in the sounds of nature. “Besides, I like the smell of the bonfire”.

The Wolf-Kissed nodded in agreement and smiled.

“Me too”, he said at last, and then slightly chuckled. “You remind me of these stars”, he told him suddenly, waving his hand to the sky, where a myriad of glowing little dots were scattered, “just as distant and unattainable, as they are. They always glow for us, guiding our path, but we’ll never get a chance to reach them, no matter how hard we try”, Eivor’s voice sounded bittersweet. “I never managed to understand you fully. The way you spoke, with cloudy riddles, it irritates and attracts me at the same time. You are a mystery to me”.

Basim listened him silently. When the Viking finished, a gentle smile stretched across the assassin’s lips.

“Your words are honey and tar at once, as always”, the Arab answered, raising his gaze on Eivor’s face, softly touched by the light of the fire. “But I’m grateful for such a poetic way to describe my personality”.

The Viking snorted and got silent again. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of warmth, that radiated from the bonfire and the man next to him.

“For me you are like a sun”, the sudden voice got him out of a pleasant trance. Eivor turned his head and came across a careful look, that Basim gave him. The atmosphere, that hovered between them in the longhouse, has returned. “It warms you from afar, but it’ll burn you, if you come closer. There is no way to touch it, only to stare at it. But if you’ll stare at the sun for too long, it’ll blind you”, the assassin continued with melancholy in his voice.

The Wolf-Kissed took a short breath and felt his heart race faster. He stared at the gentle, sad smile on Basim’s face, and before realizing, what he was doing, or rather was he even allowed to do this, he leaned forward and pressed his lips toward his. The assassin made a small sound in the back of his throat but didn’t move away. Smiling during the kiss, the red head took one of the Arab’s hands and traced it towards his own face.

“You can touch the sun, I permit you”, chuckled Eivor, feeling, how Basim’s fingers began running through his hair and caressing his face.

The kiss, that came after, was hard and wild. The Wolf-Kissed indeed was the sun, the eternal burning fire, with his red hair, that licked Basim’s fingers like a flame, with his scorching gaze, that cooled only when the warrior closed his eyes in pleasure. This deathly heat would kill him one day, the assassin thought. It was clear, as the unclouded sky. But he cared not. Until the voice spoke to him, until the eyes looked at him with such trust and need.

He will face tomorrow when the sun will rise. And now, until the night hides them both with her black veil from unwanted gazes, he won’t think about anything except his beautiful lover in his arms and the warmth of his breath on his lips.


End file.
